From the Looking Glass
by Anath Tsurugi
Summary: James Buchanan Barnes never existed. Jefferson was just trying to escape his past. What happens when both he and Steve wind up in Storybrooke? (Steve/Jefferson)


**From the Looking Glass**

Jefferson had promised himself he was never going to love again…not after what had happened to Alice. When he lost her, he ran…as far and as fast as the hat could carry him. He never wanted to see the damned Enchanted Forest again. It was just too painful.

The world he wound up in was one he'd never been to before…and the magic it contained must have been well hidden, because he couldn't find it. Although, it was certainly possible that this world's magic had caused his odd transformation, as the hat had never actually caused him to change form.

Upon his entry into the world, Jefferson found himself de-aged. He couldn't have been more than ten or twelve. He was confused and lost, and when the locals found a child wandering the streets, they sent him to the orphanage.

Normally, when asked his name, he just said Jefferson. There was little reason to hide it from world to world, just in his own. But when the sisters at the orphanage asked him, he suddenly saw a chance to _really_ run away, to leave behind his horrible experiences with Alice and the hat forever…so he told them he didn't remember his name. They took pity on him, of course…poor child with no memory of who he was. They gave him a home and a new name: James Buchanan Barnes. Most of it he liked, but James reminded him a little too much of Jefferson, so he ultimately ended up with the nickname Bucky. It was strange at first, to be an adult trapped in a child's body, but Jefferson was nothing if not adaptable, and in a way, it was sort of…nice…to be able to redo all that wasted time.

Then he'd met Steve Rogers.

Steve was just about the exact opposite of the sort he was used to dealing with…the exact opposite of _him_. Honest, brave, fiercely loyal and optimistic…in fact, he reminded him of Alice a little bit…even had the blonde hair and blue eyes. It was that thought, he knew, that should have sent him running for the hills. If he started this again, he was only going to end up digging himself in deep and getting hurt all over again…but he just couldn't help himself. Steve needed him…in a way he'd never _been_ needed before. He also found, in some strange way, that he needed Steve, too.

They grew up together, facing the harshness of the world as friends, as brothers, and ultimately…as lovers.

As Jefferson, Bucky had slept with just about anything that moved. He had never been picky about where his cock wound up. In this world, though, he did try to stick to their norm…just women…mostly to protect Steve. What these people viewed as 'sexual deviance' was harshly punished. He did find the occasional like-minded male to jump into bed with, though. The only thing that kept him from giving in to the longing he saw in Steve's eyes was the fact that he was his best friend…and that he'd promised himself not to deal with love anymore. He knew it could never be just sex with Steve. It would be something precious, something…magical. It would be love…and he didn't think he could bear to hurt Steve with love. Besides, who knew how long it might be before his past caught up with him…before he had to leave Steve behind in order to protect him?

In the end, though, he just couldn't help himself. He never _had_ been able to where Steve was concerned. One night, he just pulled his scrawny roommate into his lap and planted a very deep, very hot kiss on his lips.

"Buck…Bucky, I-" he stuttered, his face going a violent shade of red.

"You think I don't see the way you look at me, Steve-o?" he teased, snaking a hand down between his legs to palm his budding erection. Steve shuddered and collapsed against him at the strength of the new sensation. In fairness, Steve himself probably didn't realize the way he looked at him, never having been with _anyone_, much less another man. So Bucky showed him everything he knew…and learned a few things he _didn't_ know with Steve. He'd been right, of course. It _was_ love. He'd have gladly burned the hat and remained in this world for the rest of his days…except there was always the slim chance that him being unable to leave would put Steve in danger, and he just couldn't risk that.

They lived like that…together in every possible sense of the word…poor, but happier than either of them had ever been alone. Nothing lasts forever, though, and all too soon the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and they were diving headfirst into war. Then there was Steve and all his talk about duty and honor and something bigger than themselves, and Bucky just couldn't bear the thought of little Steve, _his_ Steve, going off to fight. Though he had never fought in a war himself, he had seen what war could do. So he'd enlisted himself…to protect Steve…to prevent him form ever _needing_ to fight. And before he'd shipped out to England, Steve had presented him with an old pocket watch that had belonged to his father.

"Mom used to tell me…that he kept a picture of her in this old thing. Well…now you can keep a little bit of me with you," Steve said, flipping the watch open to show him the small picture inside. Bucky never let that watch out of his sight after that.

Unfortunately, his grand plans of winning the war single-handedly had been derailed by HYDRA.

There were times, when he'd been under Arnim Zola's needles and knives, that part of him wished he hadn't left the hat back in Brooklyn, but then he would remind himself that there were worse pains…worse than anything Zola or Schmidt could possibly inflict. So he had endured, somehow…and one night, he'd been pulled from his drug-induced haze by the sound of Steve's voice.

If anything in this world seemed like magic, it was Steve Rogers' transformation into Captain America. Considering the things he'd seen back when he was still Jefferson, it wasn't all that much of an adjustment for Bucky, but he pretended like it was from time to time. After all, sights like this one were clearly out of the ordinary in this world. Besides, why should he object to something that made their sex life that much more interesting? Every night when they curled up together, he let Steve know how much he enjoyed the change with the half-mad smile of his that Steve loved so much.

Even this had to come to an end in its time, though. One night, when Bucky entered his and Steve's tent, he heard a voice he'd _prayed_ never to hear again.

"Hello, Jefferson."

As his head snapped up in shock, Bucky glanced in the direction the voice was coming from and found himself staring down the Queen in the reflective back of Steve's shield.

"Regina," he hissed, glaring daggers at her. "How did you find me?"

"Oh, I can always find _you_, Jefferson. Don't I get anymore than that? Especially after I went to so much trouble to find you."

"I didn't _want_ to be found. I wanted to forget. Now get out of here before someone sees you."

"No one will come," she told him, and he couldn't help but know it was true.

"What do you want?"

"You've picked up a different accent," she noted casually. "How long have you been in that sad little world of yours?"

"Thirteen years," he answered, "and it's _not_ sad."

"My, how the times do shift. By my count, it's only been a few months since you and Alice disappeared on your grand escapade. How is dear Alice, by the way?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what happened," Bucky snarled at her.

"Hmm, maybe. I just thought you'd had long enough to grieve, might want to come back home."

"I'm not leavin', Regina. I've got a life here." He didn't dare tell her he was in love. The moment she knew about Steve, he would be caught in her web.

"So there's nothing I can say to convince you to come back?"

"Not a damn thing. I'm not interested in treasure huntin' anymore. There's nothin' you have I want."

"Not even your own child?"

This shut Bucky up right quick. For several minutes, he just stared at the face in the shield. No clever comeback came to his rescue. All he could manage was, "The Hell you talkin' about?"

"Just last month, a very valuable treasure came into my possession…a baby girl. I'm told she was Alice's daughter…_your_ daughter."

With that, Regina turned aside, and when she turned back, she was holding a wriggling baby girl in her arms. For a moment, Bucky was absolutely transfixed by the sight of her, but then he managed to snap himself out of it.

"How do I know you're tellin' me the truth? That could be anybody's kid."

"But it's not. You _know_ what I'm saying is true. She was only about a month old when you swept her mother away on one last grand adventure. She was left alone. Did you _really_ never wonder why Alice was so hesitant to join you that last time?"

Regina was right. Alice _had_ been hesitant, but…why hadn't she _told_ him? Had she…thought he would be a bad father? That he might not care? Well, he had to admit to himself, back then she probably would have been right. The man he _had_ been…was unfit to be a father. But things were different now. _He_ was different. Maybe…he could bring her back here and…he and Steve could raise her together?

"What do you _want_, Regina?" he repeated, his voice a low growl in his throat.

"To give you back your daughter, of course."

"So bring her to me."

"Heheh, you know I don't have that kind of power. If you want her, you need to come for her. Use the hat."

"Well, unfortunately for whatever you were plannin', I don't have the hat with me. Guess we're stuck."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, than something fell into his hands. Horror flashed briefly in his eyes when he looked down to see the hat there.

"Thought you didn't have that kinda power."

"I don't, not to travel between worlds, but I _can_ affect events to a degree."

"Why do you want me back so bad?" he asked.

"Can't a girl want to see an old friend?"

"Course a _girl_ could. You, I'm not so sure about."

"Well, I certainly hope you'll consider it. After all…it would be very unfortunate if something were to happen to that…captain of yours," she said, stroking the downy blonde fuzz on the baby girl's head.

Bucky's entire body went rigid at this and his eyes bulged in rage and fear. So she already knew about Steve. There was no hiding it. He would _have_ to leave. It was the only way to protect Steve.

"Fine. I'll come…but I need a little time. I can't just leave."

"Why not? Seems to me that's all you've ever done. You're _very_ good at it."

He didn't say it out loud, but the thought that hung heavy in his mind was, _I can't just __**leave**__ him._

"What…what's her name?" he finally made himself ask, peaking shyly at the little girl.

"Grace."

XxX

After Regina had gone, Bucky stashed the hat under his cot.

No…not Bucky. He couldn't be Bucky anymore. He was Jefferson again, and he had to get used to thinking of himself that way. Only…just for one more night…couldn't he pretend to be Bucky…and only him? No one else…just a man in love…

When Steve finally came to the tent and found Bucky staring blankly at the bare stretch of canvas wall, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Bucky shook his head. "Nothin', Cap. This is gonna sound stupid, but…could you hold me?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

"Yes," Steve said, the look on his own face a bit off as he came to Bucky and pulled him into his arms. It wasn't long before they were kissing, and half as long again before they were sprawled out on Bucky's cot, half naked and slowly stripping each other.

Steve could sense there was something different about tonight. For the past few years, in the heat of the war-charged environment, their lovemaking had been passionate, heated, and quick, but tonight, they moved slowly. They took the time to run fingers over every inch of skin, committing everything to memory as they hadn't done since the earliest days of their relationship. Bucky pressed his lips against every inch of sweaty skin he could reach, whispering against him, "I love you…I love you…" over and over again. He didn't say it very often, but if this was to be his last chance to say it…just in case this was their last night together…he wanted him to know.

"I love you."

Yes, Steve knew something was different, but he didn't call Bucky on it. He just held him, kissed him, worshipped his body with his own…until they were complete in each others' arms.

The next day, Jefferson boarded the HYDRA train with the hat tucked into his uniform, crushed up against his chest. Then, when the side of the car was blown out, him along with it, he made a feeble grab for Steve's hand…

_Goodbye, Steve._

…then let go.

As he plummeted through the air, he yanked the hat out and threw it down, activating the portal. The train was long out of sight when the magic fully engulfed him. Had he really seen the last of his blue-eyed lover?

XxX

Jefferson was pleased to discover that he hadn't lost his touch with aiming the hat. He ended up exactly where he wanted to…inside Regina's private audience chamber. She was there, of course, and tucked up against a desk was a large white cradle.

"Ah," Regina appraised, looking over his uniform. "Exile doesn't suit you, Jefferson. They had no sense of style in whatever world you were in. You really ought to be working for us again."

"Us?" he asked, hand going to his pistol out of habit.

"Us, dearie," a painfully familiar voice sounded behind him. Jefferson turned with lightning speed, aiming his weapon at none other than Rumpelstiltskin, his former employer.

"What do you want?" he asked them.

"You failed to acquire something for me on your last little trip," the Dark One reminded him, prancing a little closer and tapping the pistol with one finger.

"So? I don't owe you anything for it. Why do you care?"

"Perhaps not, but it just makes it an even nicer gesture on my part…rescuing your dear little girl from those ogres."

_Yeah, ogres you probably put there._

"You didn't mention _he_ was the one who brought her here," he hissed at Regina, not taking his eyes off Rumpelstiltskin.

"Indeed…and I am still owed payment for services rendered."

_Oh, God._

"What if I say I don't want her? What if I just walk out of here? What happens then?" he asked them. They all knew it was an empty threat. The pale hope that this really was Alice's daughter…_his_ daughter, had driven him further than he'd realized.

"Well, then…in that case, the child would belong to _me_," Rumpelstiltskin explained as he strolled over to the cradle, reaching a hand inside, "and I can think of all manner of unseemly uses for her…Alice's daughter."

"No!" Jefferson shouted, holstering his gun and racing to the cradle. Without even thinking about it, he picked up the baby girl and held her close, backing several steps away from the man who wasn't quite a man.

"I thought so; I thought so," the Dark One trilled. "Of course…I must have fair value from you in return."

"What do you want?" he asked again, feeling his heart melt a little when Grace managed to wriggle a hand out of her blanket and grasp at his jacket.

"One love for another, dearie. My price," he began, placing a hand on Jefferson's shoulder, "is that you may never return to the land you just came here from."

Jefferson felt the chains of Rumpelstiltskin's power descending on him the moment the words were spoken. It wasn't a matter of promising not to return. He was now virtually incapable of traveling to that world anymore. He was trapped…chained away from Steve…even further than the distance between the farthest stars.

The hatter didn't know _why_ he felt that his heart had been ripped from his chest. In truth, he'd _expected_ something like this to happen…which was why he'd tried to give Steve a bit of closure with his supposed death. If he'd just disappeared without any word, Steve probably would have spent the rest of his life wondering…never knowing what had happened to him. So, even though he felt like he was being strangled from the inside, Jefferson just nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as a few tears escaped. He couldn't abandon Grace, after all. After getting her mother killed and leaving her to _these_ people, he had a responsibility to her.

_I guess…this really is goodbye…Steve._

"Well, now that's taken care of, I have other business to see to. I hope you enjoy your choice, Jefferson," Rumpelstiltskin said before vanishing.

"Why did you do this?" Jefferson asked Regina, staring at nothing as he rocked Grace.

"Why do I do anything? It's because I have a use for you."

"I won't work for you…_ever_. Nothing you can say will make me," he growled at her.

"You also said I couldn't get you to come back here, either, yet here we stand," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you've really got nothing to bait me with anymore."

"You're sure about that?"

Jefferson's gaze sharpened at this and he stared at the queen with a look that was part anger and part fear.

"Show him to me," he demanded, coming as close to Regina as he dared while he still held Grace.

"_Show_ you?" she asked innocently. "Now why would you need to see him? You can _never_ go back to him," she said, an oddly satisfied smile on her face.

"I _know_ that. I just…wanna see him one more time. Then…it doesn't matter what you do," he lied.

"You really don't care…what I might do to him?"

Jefferson cracked a roguish smirk at this, a shade of his former self. "It's like you said. I'm pretty good at runnin' away. It was fun while it lasted."

"You _are_ very good at running away," she said as she appraised him, "but you're also very good at _lying_."

With that, Regina waved a hand over her mirror, calling up an image. Jefferson could see Steve struggling with the controls of some kind of large aircraft.

"There's not enough time. This thing's movin' too fast and it's headin' for New York. I gotta put her in the water."

"No," Jefferson hissed, moving toward the mirror. "What the Hell are you doin'?"

He shouldn't have been surprised. This was exactly what Steve would do. And who knew how long it had been since his 'death'…how long Steve had been without him. That didn't mean, however, that he _wanted_ to watch Steve die.

As Steve sent the plane on a collision course with the ice, Jefferson watched the emotions cross his face. He _spoke_ to Peggy, but Jefferson knew those emotions were meant for him.

_I love you. I miss you. I'm coming…Bucky._

"No," he whispered again, pressing a hand against the glass, as if he could somehow reach him across the unimaginable distance between them. "No, no, no, no, _no!_"

_Steve, I'm not dead! I'm __**right here! **__Don't do this! __**Please**__ don't do this!_

"Do something, damn it!" he shouted at Regina. He didn't care if he owed her his _soul_. If she could save his life, it would be worth it…but the queen just shrugged.

"What would you have me do? Moving a hat is one thing. This is something else entirely."

"Regina…Your Highness…" he began, dropping to his knees as he turned to her, "I'm begging you…save him. You can do whatever you want with me. I'll serve you forever…do whatever you ask. Only save his life."

At this, Regina just sneered down at him.

"No."

"Steve!" Jefferson cried out, crawling back to the mirror, while still holding Grace in one arm. He was only seconds from impact.

_Steve…no…__**please!**_

He saw Steve's face one last time before he crashed. Then he was entombed in an avalanche of ice and there was nothing more to see. The image faded from the mirror and Jefferson was left staring at his own devastated reflection.

"He…he's dead?" he choked out.

"It would seem so. Well, I suppose you were right about my not having anything to bait you with. You and your daughter are free to go. Live as you see fit," she said, her tone sour.

_It was all for nothing_, Jefferson found himself thinking as he walked out of the castle. Leaving to protect Steve…that sacrifice was meaningless now. He hadn't been there for Steve when he needed him the _most_…and now he was gone.

Jefferson walked until he'd left the castle far behind…deep into the forest. Then, when he couldn't walk anymore, he just fell to his knees and cried…for Steve…for Alice…for all of them.

He could have handled it, he thought, being separated from Steve, but knowing he was alive…that he was protected. Knowing now that there was _no hope left_…it killed something inside of him.

It was the sound of Grace crying that finally snapped him out of his grief-stricken daze. Likely she was hungry. He would have to find something for her. He had to take care of her now…and _that_ was to be his penance, he realized…for failing to protect Steve…for letting Alice die…he would devote himself to his little daughter…and he would _die_ before he let anything happen to her.

They got by. It wasn't easy, but they got by. Jefferson adored Grace and she was an absolute angel. He stood by her, held her up as she learned to walk, talk, and run. Despite their happiness, though, there were still nights when he cried…when he missed Steve so badly, he could barely breathe. Grace made his life bearable…and he wanted her to have so much more than he could give her.

That was when Regina came back into his life…and they went to Wonderland.

His time trapped there was mostly a blur…the stab of needles, the shear of scissors…the utter _desperation_, the need to have something, _anything_, just _work!_

Waking up in Storybrooke hadn't been any better. For a few days, he was certain he'd just finally sunk into some delusion or other. If he'd finally slipped into complete insanity, at least he wouldn't have to look at the Queen of Hearts' dungeon anymore.

But then proper memory started to return, bit by bit. It conflicted harshly with the place he currently was and the memories he currently had (something to do with being a trust fund child), but he was used to dealing with madness, and he did manage to slog his way through it all eventually. Regina had done this…a punishment for all of them. If she couldn't have what she loved most, then no one could. The things they loved had been torn away from them by chains of false memory. Only…for some reason…Regina had seen fit to punish him alone with the curse of true memory.

After what felt like centuries (and it well could have been, considering how time worked in Wonderland), Grace was finally within his reach again…and she had no idea who he was. She was Paige now. At first, he thought no punishment could possibly be worse…to waste away with longing to be with his daughter again, only to finally see her and feel the pain of having her look right through him. It was like being killed every time he woke up in the morning.

But then he'd seen Steve.

Joseph Barnes was the art teacher at the school. He was very frail and was out sick a lot, but he loved his subject and he was good with the kids…and of course, Jefferson knew him right away. He would know Steve anywhere…tiny and fragile or large and buff. It didn't matter…and when he saw him, his legs just sort of…stopped working. He crashed to his knees right there on the sidewalk.

_I thought you were dead. She told me you were dead! __**She told me you were **_dead!

_But…you don't know me, do you. You have no __**idea**__ who I am…no idea how much I love you…how much I've __**missed**__ you._

All told, the whole episode just about drove him insane all over again, and it was the straw that finally pushed him into seeking out Regina. She'd barely had a chance to open her door before he shoved his way inside, seizing her by the throat.

"What the _Hell_ is he doing here?!" he screamed at her, forcing her against the opposite wall. For a moment, her eyes wobbled in fear, but when he loosened his grip to let her speak, her confidence returned easily.

"You _know_ the answer to that. He's just one more thing you love that you _can't have_."

"He's dead! I _saw_ him die! You _told_ me he was dead!"

"Well, as it so happens, I lied. Your precious captain was alive in that ice…frozen and sleeping for seventy years. Heh, a fate almost worthy of a sleeping curse."

"Seventy _years?_" Jefferson whispered, finally releasing the former queen and stumbling back several steps. "Why…why him? Wasn't taking Grace away enough for you?"

"No, it's _never_ enough," she hissed at him. "You love Steve Rogers in a way you've _never_ loved anyone else…even Alice. Of _course_ you can't be allowed to keep him."

"He has done _nothing_ to you," he snarled at her.

"Quite the contrary. He _kept_ you from me…at a time when I had a use for your abilities. He's being punished the same as every one else."

"Why? Why would you take him away from me…just to give him back like _this?_"

"I was always keeping this one on the back burner…in case it proved necessary," she said, circling around him, forcing him back against the wall he'd so lately held her against. "Now…today…I get to see the light in your eyes _die_…when you realize you've lost the man you love _twice_…and you can _never_ get him back."

It happened exactly as she said. Jefferson felt the hope he hadn't even realized he'd allowed to burn in his heart flicker and die as he sank to his knees. Steve was here…because of him. There was no way around it…and no way he could save him. As it had been all those years ago…when he'd thought he was dead…his grief was a howl inside him, and his own pitiful vocal chords would never be enough to give voice to that anguish. In his own way, he was trapped all over again, unable even to scream. When he finally managed to shake himself out of his despairing stupor, he found he'd been brought back to the mansion Regina had given him in this world.

Everyday, Jefferson watched them…Grace and Steve…his daughter and his lover. Mr. Barnes was Paige's teacher, so he even got to see them together. Art was one of her favorite classes, so she got along well with her teacher. It made him happy to see it, but it also made him ache that much more…that he couldn't be with them…that they couldn't be the family he'd dreamed of so long ago. For twenty-eight years, he watched them, in joy and agony every moment…until Emma Swann came to Storybrooke, and time started to move again.

XxX

"Ah, Emma," Joe Barnes greeted the sheriff when he opened his office door to see her standing there. "Come in. Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, indicating she should sit.

"Sorry, Joe, I just…I need to ask a few questions about Mary Margaret," she said, pointedly not sitting. She didn't want to make this visit any harder than it was going to be. Joe and Mary Margaret were good friends through work, and during her time in the small Maine town, Emma herself had gotten to be friends with the diminutive art teacher.

"Why?" he asked, turning to look at her. "You haven't stopped believing she's innocent, have you?"

"No. Regina just wants something a little more official on record. I wanted…to…" Emma's voice slowly trailed away to nothing as she glanced down at Joe's desk, which was covered with sketches…sketches of a face she _knew_.

Jefferson…the psychopath that had nearly gotten her and Mary Margaret killed not too long ago. Only he didn't quite _look_ like Jefferson. This man was smiling, laughing, warm, wry, and gentle…all in all, a very far cry from the man she was familiar with.

"I see you've discovered my addiction."

"Do you know who this is?" Emma asked the man quietly.

"Honestly? No. I have no idea. I see him in my dreams a lot…and sometimes…when I'm by myself…I feel like all I have to do is turn around…and he'll be right there with me. It…it's stupid, I know, but sometimes I think…maybe he's my dream guy," he said, smiling helplessly, blushing as he started to gather up the sketches. Emma knew Joe was still not completely out about his sexuality, but she was happy he at least felt comfortable enough around her to crush on a picture of a hot guy.

As far as his mystery man went, though, if it really _was_ Jefferson…then this whole business was starting to be a pretty damn convincing hallucination. The "Mad Hatter" had explained to her who Joe supposedly was to him…and here Joe was, never having met Jefferson, and turning out sketch after sketch of him…some with very definite erotic tones to them.

What could it mean?

Before the sheriff could question it any further, Joe started coughing. At first, it seemed like a normal cough, but then it got worse, quickly devolving into a fit. Joe collapsed into his desk chair, his coughing lapsing into wheezing, because he couldn't draw in enough air to cough.

"Joe? Are you all right? What do you need?" Emma asked, quickly kneeling beside the stricken teacher, who was struggling to rummage around in his desk.

"In…haler…" he wheezed. Emma had to dig a little deeper, but she did eventually come up with the spray dispenser. Joe took it gratefully, beginning to suck on it.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked him. Vaguely, he nodded, slowly allowing his body to relax into the chair as he fought to take slow, deep breaths.

"I'm fine. Attacks happen. Though…it does kinda seem…like they've been getting worse these past few months…since _you've_ been here, actually."

XxX

Like an idiot, Jefferson did what Regina wanted yet again…and got stabbed in the back for his troubles. In fairness, though, he was getting desperate. Beyond wanting his life back, his _family_…Steve was running out of time. Ever since time had started moving again, Steve's bouts of sickness had been getting worse. With the time lock breaking down, he was becoming more and more susceptible to the dangers of this world. He had spent several nights in the hospital already. It wouldn't be long before the next fit came along and stopped his breath forever. Jefferson would have taken just about any deal Regina would make with him. He didn't _care_ if it meant the curse would never be broken. If strengthening it was the only way to save Steve's life, he would gladly bargain away what remained of his soul…in order to have Regina write a new story for the three of them. He didn't _care_ if the rest of the world burned. He just couldn't bear to watch Steve die again.

But of course, Regina couldn't help but serve her own interests, and even though he could easily take revenge, set Belle free and essentially sic Rumpelstiltskin on the former queen, none of that would save Steve. So he wasn't feeling much happier with the world after he sent Belle off to find Mr. Gold. Once he'd changed back to his regular clothes, he lingered around the ward where they were treating Henry, not because he cared about what happened to the boy (though he did feel a little sorry for Emma and Regina, twenty-eight years of living under the curse had made him more than a little hard-hearted), but because Steve had shown up at the hospital. Apparently, Mary Margaret had given him a call when they'd brought Henry in. The boy's fatal brush with magic wasn't the end of the medical emergencies, though.

As Steve and Mary Margaret sat together, Steve started to wheeze…and when it went beyond the norm, he reached for his inhaler, but couldn't seem to find it.

"Joe, where…where's your inhaler?" Mary Margaret asked as she helped him search, both already distraught over Henry's condition.

"Don't…don't know," he gasped. Already, he could barely breathe.

"Someone help!" Mary Margaret screamed. "He's having an asthma attack!"

Without even thinking, Jefferson stepped in to help. For twenty-eight years, he'd stayed away from Steve, watching him from a distance, but now he had no choice.

Mary Margaret just about had a heart attack when he squeezed his way between them on the bench and wrapped his arms around him.

"You! What are you doing here?!"

"Trying to help," he growled, pressing his lips to Steve's ear as he held his body as tightly against his as he could. "Joe? Joe, can you hear me?"

All he got in response was a tiny bob of the head.

"I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that?" he asked, setting up a steady rhythm with his own breathing for Steve to match. This Steve lived in a world of inhalers and instant medication, but Jefferson still remembered a time before inhalers…back when the orphanage couldn't always afford medicine for Steve. When he would lay awake at night with his friend and breathe with him…a rock for his weak lungs.

For what felt like a long time, Steve struggled with his traitorous body, but he did eventually manage to get his breathing to match Jefferson's. The former hatter knew this was only a temporary solution. This was a severe attack and his body would get the better of him in the end. All they needed was to hold on long enough for one of the nurses to locate the right type of inhaler.

Jefferson held onto Steve for all he was worth, not knowing if he would ever be able to again. Even though Steve had no idea who he was, didn't even know himself…he had never felt so close to him…so attuned. If he could breathe for him, he would.

_Don't take him away from me…__**please**__…not again. I can't __**take**__ it. I __**can't!**_

Finally, a nurse came and placed an oxygen mask over Steve's nose and mouth and Jefferson breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that relief didn't last long.

The moment they pulled Steve away from him to get him onto a stretcher, his body started to convulse. Jefferson saw his eyes bulge as he started to gasp behind the mask, unable to breathe.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, not really caring who answered. This shouldn't be happening, not now.

"We're not sure. We need to get him out of here. Please stand back, sir."

"No!" he shouted, not caring about anything else except that they were taking Steve away from him. His eyes were shut…and he wasn't breathing. "He _needs_ me!" So he followed…and they didn't stop him.

It didn't _matter_ anymore…not the curse, not Regina, not the fact that Steve didn't know him, that they could never be together in this life. None of that was important. All he could see was Steve dying all over again…and him being powerless to stop it.

He could hear the chatter all around him as Steve was hooked up to several machines. There was no reason this should be happening. When the inhalants had failed, they'd gone for intravenous delivery of his medication, but nothing was working. They didn't understand, but _he_ did. This was Regina's curse taking its final fatal stab at him…for failing to help her get what she wanted…failing to vanquish the savior…by truly taking away someone that he loved, not just torturing him with him. He was a failure; everything he had ever set out to do in his life, he had failed completely…and now…Steve would be the one to pay the price for that failure.

This final punishment was pronounced by the heart monitor when it sounded its high single note of flat line.

The doctors kept trying…but Steve just wasn't there anymore…and while they flittered around him, Jefferson just stood there. Ultimately, they pulled the mask from his face and shut off the machines, then left Jefferson alone with him, as he was clearly of some relation. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, just staring, before he started to move.

"Steve?" he called, his voice breaking. "Steve? Can you hear me?"

Jefferson took one of Steve's limp hands in his, then reached his other hand up to brush the soft blonde hair from his face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, feeling tears begin to squeeze their way out of his eyes. "This is all my fault. If I didn't…exist…are you listening?!"

He was really crying now…tears pouring down his face, strangled sobs escaping his throat.

"I can never…burn enough…for…for d-doing this to you."

_All you ever did was be an angel…__**my**__ angel…and __**this**__ is your reward. If your God exists…I hope he burns me…forever._

First, he kissed the hand he held, then he leaned down close to Steve's face, whispering to him, "I love you," before pressing his lips to his in a bittersweet kiss goodbye.

Jefferson felt the sweet flare of magic the moment his lips connected with Steve's. Of this world, it was weak, but it was still _there_…rising to join the sudden wave he felt crashing through the air. Then, suddenly, Steve was gasping into his mouth, fighting to breathe again. Jefferson stood bolt upright, shock and wonder written across his face.

Then, right before his eyes, Steve started to change. He grew taller and his skimpy muscles filled out, until he was once again the man who had been Captain America. Thankfully, the staff had gotten him out of his coat and shirt, so the only thing destroyed by the growth snap was his belt.

"Broken," Jefferson whispered. "It's broken. She's lost."

Slowly, Steve's eyes blinked open. Upon hearing the familiar voice, his head shifted to look over at him and shock also filled his eyes.

"Bucky?"

"You…you _know_ me?" he whispered, hardly daring to hope. "Steve?"

Steve nodded. "Am…am I dead?"

Jefferson shook his head. "Not unless I am, too."

A strange spark of confused relief lit the man's eyes as he looked at him. "But you…you _were_. What…what's going on?"

Suddenly feeling afraid, Jefferson did the thing he did best. He turned and ran.

"Bucky! Wait!" Steve shouted, jumping up from the hospital bed and racing after him. "Stop!"

Jefferson didn't dare, even though he knew he had no hope of outrunning him. He bolted through the hospital, very nearly made the front entrance before Steve caught up to him, seizing him and holding him tightly against his body.

"Don't you _dare_ try to leave me again!" the super soldier snarled in his ear, and Jefferson practically melted against him as he turned him in his embrace. "You're really alive?"

"Now you're here? Yes," he cried, kissing Steve again. Steve kissed back, holding him tightly, for fear he'd lose him all over again. When they had to separate for a breath of air, Jefferson buried his face in Steve's chest. It was over? It was really _over?_ After all that time, all those years he'd been trapped…in so many different cages…he wasn't sure if he was ready to believe it. Steve didn't seem quite ready yet, either.

"Buck, what…what _happened?_ I…I remember Storybrooke, but…how did I _get_ here? How did _you_ get here? Where have you _been?_ I saw you fall!" Steve said, still holding him tight, as if doing so would blot out that terrible memory. Jefferson clung to him just as tightly, also trying to brush away the memory of the _two_ times he'd seen this man die.

"Shh, shh," Jefferson shushed him. "Steve, there's…_so_ much to explain. I don't even know where…I…I suppose…the only place to start from is…I'm not who you think I am…never have been."

"What are you talking about?"

So, as the pair walked around the hospital, Jefferson explained, and as he explained, he started to heal. He gave voice to his life as he never had before. He told Steve about who he really was, the world he came from and what he did for a living. He told him about Alice, about their friendship and brief fling…how she'd been killed in a confrontation with the Witch of the North. He spoke her name and his mouth was clean again after decades of being stopped with sorrow. He explained about how he'd come to Steve's world in the first place…about how their love was one of the few things in his life that had ever seemed real…and the one other real thing that had forced him to leave that life. He talked about the bargain he'd made…and about Grace…and for the first time in so long, his tongue wasn't bitter with regret when he spoke his little girl's name. He spoke of Wonderland…of being _trapped_…in the dungeon and in his own head…and trapped again upon waking in Storybrooke. The agony of learning he was alive…but that they'd never been farther apart…the heartbreak of watching his loved ones be happy without him for the past three decades.

"We weren't happy," Steve said to that. "I don't think…anyone under this curse was. I think…deep down…we all knew something was missing. I…I drew pictures of you," he admitted sheepishly.

"You did?" Jefferson asked, unable to help the smile that spread over his face.

"Some part of me must have remembered. I kept seeing you in my dreams. My apartment's full of sketches."

"Well, I never let go of you, either," Jefferson said, taking out the old pocket watch from where it was hidden beneath his scarf, flipping it open to reveal the black and white photograph still nestled inside.

"You…you actually still have that?" Steve asked. "Even after…everything?"

"I have no idea how. The curse should have taken it away…but it was still with me when I woke up here."

"Buck…Jefferson…why didn't you just _tell_ me? About your world…any of it?"

"I don't know. You looked up to me. I wanted to be worthy of that. I guess I was just…trying to protect you. Guess we can all see how well _that_ turned out," he said, laughing derisively…just a shade above mad.

"Hey, hey, no. Don't talk like that. You did what you thought was right," Steve said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and kissing him. "Though, if this curse is broken, why are we still here?"

"No idea."

"Definitely a good thing, at least. If we'd been sent right back to where we were…we would have been separated again. You might have even wound up back in Wonderland."

"Maybe," Jefferson said, shuddering at the thought.

"Well…if you can never go back to my world, I don't want to go back there, either."

"Steve, don't…don't they _need_ you?"

"Nah. The world got along just fine without me for seventy years and the Avengers…this group I was part of…they can handle themselves. Besides, who's to say what time I'd end up in? I don't wanna go back and find that another seventy years have gone by. And…_you_ need me more, I think," he said, offering him another warm smile, the fact that he needed him, too remaining implicit. Jefferson returned the smile with a tired one of his own and they leaned in to share another kiss.

"It's not going to be easy," the former hatter told his lover. "I'm not exactly…a friend…to a lot of my countrymen."

"I know. I understand…but _you_ need to understand that I would follow you anywhere. It doesn't matter what your name is…or what you've done. You're still the man I love."

Jefferson felt tears spring to his eyes again as he looked to the other man. That was his Steve, through and through…noble to the end…brave, honest, and loving…everything _he_ wasn't.

"Even though I…left you…ran away?"

"You had no choice. You _had_ to go back…for Grace."

"And here I can't even…face her," he said, his voice hitching slightly.

"And why not?" Steve fired back.

"Because I left her, too. I _promised_ her I'd come back, and…and…"

"It's gonna be okay," Steve soothed him, running his fingers through his hair as he held him. "You'll go to her when you're ready. There's no hurry. It's all right now."

He had stood on his own for so long…barely managing to keep his head above water in this sea of madness. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was collapse, to let it all go and just fall…fall into Steve's arms and just be held there, safe and warm, home at last. So that's what he did…just let Steve hold him.

"God, I could _kill_ Regina…for doing this to you…to all of them.

"Heh…I don't imagine anyone would stop you."

The 'fate of the kingdom', however, wasn't so much their worry at the moment. Unlike Snow and Charming, they were not rulers, and they were just so relieved to be together again, it was all they could manage to do…be together. They ended up back at Jefferson's place that night, and finally, to Jefferson, the place felt like something more than a prison…or a tomb.

There weren't many words…there had been so many meaningless ones in the years since they'd last been together. All they needed was to touch each other again and the years of longing and heartache were felt in the tremulous press of skin against skin. Each kiss and every touch begat another until they were just lost in the sensation of each other. Typically, Jefferson had taken the lead in the past, but tonight, he was just as content to give himself to Steve…and if the larger man occasionally switched the name he called him as he kissed his neck, well…it really didn't matter to him.

They didn't sleep, both terrified it had all been a dream and that they would wake to find themselves trapped in their waking nightmares again. Afterward, they just lay together, connected, holding each other as they kissed…uncertain whether they would ever sleep again.

Neither of them had any idea what the morning might bring, but that didn't matter so much right now. In this moment, they had each other, and it was more than either of them had expected to have ever again.

XxX

(A/N) So, I was watching "A Land Without Magic" again in order to write this, and I saw something I hadn't before. Tell me, did anyone else notice that Emma pulled an Avengers comic out of Henry's backpack? (Okay, technically it was Avengers vs. X-men, but still…)


End file.
